Two Victims: Memories of the First World War

by Welwel Rozenblum

Translated by Renee Miller

Edited by Fay Bussgang

In our Seyfer Brzezin [Brzezin Book], I wish to renew the memory of two casualties from our town.
They were from two diverse worlds, two completely distinct types. They lived
differently and died differently, but both deserve to be remembered and paid
tribute.

My memories of these two casualties are, incidentally, bound up with the First
World War. The worst tragedy that our town lived through in those hard times
was the slaughter of ten Jews, carried out by the Cossacks. They took out ten
innocent Jews from their homes, took them away somewhere in a field, and shot
them  without rhyme or reason. Among the casualties were: Abraham
Paje with his father, both from Glowno, and another father and son, and other
holy martyrs whose names I cannot remember to my greatest regret.

For a long time the town mourned the innocent victims. Every year they used to
go to the cemetery to commemorate the yortsayt [anniversary of death] and to say kadesh [prayer for the dead] at the common grave for the martyrs.

The Cossacks killed another victim, but not at once. They attacked him and beat
him mercilessly, and he died a short time later from the blows. The victim was
Herszel Litwak, the Gemore [Torah commentaries] teacher, Tema's husband. Herszel Litwak was one of the
most virtuous, observant, honest Jews in town. A pure, holy soul, who all his
life, with the highest devotion, served the Creator of the Word and studied the
holy Torah.

Since they were our neighbors, I knew them well. Tema had a little grocery
store in Jozef Grossman's house in Nowe Miasto [New Town] and never, or seldom, found time to devote to herself, because she,
Tema, was, in her great poverty, the finest saintly woman in town. She was
always busy helping people in need  the sick, the feeble, orphans,
widows. A poor bride was to be married  they came to Tema; attention
needed for a poor, sick pregnant women  also to Tema. Somewhere there
was not enough for Shabes [Sabbath] or for yontov [holiday]  Tema took my mother as her helper, and they took care of
the needy. My mother was always Tema's first assistant. One call from Tema was
enough; my mother would leave her kit and caboodle and set out with her,
door-to-door  to collect alms to provide for someone for Shabes or yontov. The wedding of someone who was alone in the world had to be made beautiful. Tema came adorned with her decorated cap from which sparkled pearls, corals,
and different beads, and she was as happy as if at the wedding of her own
daughter. Also the opposite. If, God forbid, a poor woman died, Tema came with
her khevre-kedishe-yidenes [women from burial society] and gave the deceased her due. Wherever, God
forbid, a tragedy occurred in a Jewish family, they ran to Tema for help, and
Tema never refused. Even if it was necessary to pawn her gold chain and
earrings, it did not stop her from helping with an open heart.

Tema also helped free young men from conscription. How this Jewish woman, who
was not dressed according to the latest fashion, was able to call on the
authorities, on Dr. Stodolkiewicz, and be received and ask for the freedom of
many young men was a mystery  but if you will, it was no riddle at
all. All laments, all secrets were brought to Tema; she received everyone as a
guest, she sought to help everyone, because she was everyone's mama.

But her own house, her own family, her own grocery store, she neglected in
order to help others. And if a customer finally showed up in the store, Reb
Herszel had to interrupt his studies with the bokhoyrim [young men, students] and go into the store. But he stood there as if lost; he
did not know what to do in the little shop. He would stand inept, and like a
child who looks for its mother, he would give a groan, Ay, Tema, Tema,
where are you?

While Reb Herszel was absorbed in another world, in a world in which one had to
serve the boyreoylem [Creator of the Word] with complete devotion, with heart and soul, he had to
awaken me continuously to tell me to be pious. Welwel, Welwel, he
would encourage and practically beg me, in his Litvak [Lithuanian] Yiddish, to daven [pray] every day and recite a chapter of the Book of Psalms. If you can't recite all day, at least one chapter, he used to beg me. The great
goodness, the great love shone out from his deep, clever eyes.

One has to prepare, Welwel, he would always remind me. All his life
he continuously prepared and fulfilled mitsves [religious obligations] with maysim-toyvim [good deeds], until on a cloudy, dreary day before noon, when the entire town was in hiding from the Cossacks who were killing and carrying out a pogrom,
they grabbed him, Herszele, and murderously beat him. He could not survive long
after the death blow, and his saintly, pure soul departed.

They had to bring the body to burial. A double fear dominated everyone. The
town was bombarded from all sides by the Germans. They were afraid to lift
their heads from their hiding places, and they trembled and shook even more
over the Cossacks. While the town was not in anyone's hands, empty both of
Germans and of Russians, my father and the tall Mene, eh [may he rest in peace]  they both were on the board of the tailors'
association and members of the khevre-kadishe [burial society]  they, and also other neighbors, began to prepare
for the burial. But they could not get any hearse in which to lay the body and
take it to burial. They finally succeeded in getting a small peasant wagon and
a horse. They lay the body inside and covered it with straw, and in great haste
and with great fear, they reached the cemetery. They dug the grave quickly, and
Reb Herszel Litwak was buried in a quiet, safe place, without any fear of the
Cossacks or other killers of Jews.

Jozef Henoch, his son, crying all the while, said kadesh. But before returning after the burial, shooting flared up again, and bullets flew over their heads. My father, the tall Mene, Tema and her children, and the
few neighbors miraculously  but barely  made it home alive,
and they again had to hide themselves from danger.

All his life Reb Herszel prepared himself. He was very pious, very observant, tsadik v-ish tomim [righteous and faultless]. Cutthroats came and murdered the saintly Jew, and
together with the other ten martyrs, an eleventh was also murdered, martyred as
a Jew  Reb Herszel Litwak, eh.

The Family of Reb Herszel Litvak and his wife, Tema
Sitting in the first row from right to left: Jakob-Icek, Tema (known as the mama
of the shtetl), Sima, with her child Isroelik on her lap, Cywia, and Sura-Chana.
Standing, from right to left: Cyna Ruchl, Josef-Henoch, and Hersz-Chaim

* * *

The war in our town quieted down and was carried over to other fronts, each
time further away and deeper into Russia. During that time, the Germans took
power and governed with a strict hand. They requisitioned everything, took it
over and sent it to Germany, and for the population in Poland, there was little
left to make a living. They struggled and did everything possible in order to
be able to exist. However, the Germans of that time gave the population a
certain freedom. They were permitted to organize various associations.

The youth used it and organized a Zionist association  Hattechija  a people's association, a Bundist one, and many others. Libraries
were created around the associations. Lecturers were brought from Lodz or
Warsaw. They arranged evenings of entertainment and lectures, established drama
groups. I myself joined the Zionist association Hattechija and later became a member of the Zionist youth organization Hashomer Hatza'ir. We had a wonderful, sincere youth group of fine boys and girls.

Majer Rozenblum is the one most strongly engraved in my memory. We had the same
name, but we were not related. Majer was very gifted and artistically inclined.
He painted with an artistic talent and also possessed other abilities. His
grandfather, Mojsze-Jojne Rozenblum, raised him. His father, Hersz-Iser, was in
prison and was also deported to Siberia because of his revolutionary
activities. If his mother was alive and shared the same fate as his father, I
do not know. I only know that Majer was a delicate, dreamy young man, with
dark-brown sparkling eyes. His youthful mischievousness very often banished the
sadness that would spread across his refined face.

On the various excursions we made together with our friends from surrounding
towns and villages, our Brzeziner Hashomer Hatza'ir-nikes [members of Hashomer Hatza'ir] always excelled in various ways. One of those
occasions was in Glowno, at a well-to-do landowner's. We played various sports
games and sang Yiddish and Hebrew folksongs. Majer drew caricatures and
good-naturedly made fun of everyone. Together we authored humorous songs and
helped create a joyous, sincere, friendly atmosphere.

We ate near the estuary, cooking in the camp kitchen. We slept in barns and
carried out our joyous singing until night disappeared and morning stars showed
that a new day was born. We returned to the town singing and marching in rows
and dedicated ourselves once again to our organizational tasks.

We had success in the field of theater plays. I dramatized the recently
published Yizkor Book [memory book], which depicted the heroic fight and death
of our guardians of Eretz Isroel [Land of Israel]. I wrote a play in three
acts. The entire winter we prepared, rehearsed, and learned our roles. During Khalemoyed Pesakh [days between first two and last two days of Passover], we raised the curtain before a large crowd in Firemen's Hall. My heart trembled, I was scared. Would
we succeed in portraying the dramatic battle, the sacrifice of our guardians in
Eretz Isroel? Would we pass the test? When the curtain came down after the last
act, the people applauded loudly and showed great pleasure and recognition for
the Hashomer Hatza'ir-nikes and for the memorial play.

Not long after that, shocking events occurred. The Germans began to lose the
war on all fronts, and the revolution broke out in Russia. Poland became an
independent country. In 1920 I was forced to flee and save my young life. Luck
was in my favor, as I came to America. My friend Majer Rozenblum and many other
friends of mine, unfortunately, remained stuck in anti-Semitic Poland.
Repression, pogroms, and political and economic oppression induced my friend
Majer to join the Communist Party.

It did not take long before he was arrested. Then began his horrible suffering
in Polish prisons. When he was finally freed, his health was already
undermined. But Majer had one desire  to get out of Poland and run to
the Socialist Garden of Eden. After great difficulty, he finally
succeeded. He thought that he was finally rescued, but there, new troubles
began for him. They looked at Polish-Jewish communists with a particular
suspicion, and at the time of the great purges, Majer Rozenblum was also purged
with a bullet in his head.

Majer Rozenblum came from a family of idealistic revolutionaries. His father,
Hersz-Iser Rozenblum, was a well-known Bundist activist. When Majer was very
young, his father and mother were exiled to Siberia for revolutionary
activities, and the child was brought up by his grandfather, Reb Mojsze-Jojne
Rozenblum. Because of this, he called his grandfather Papa and his
grandmother Mama. Only later, after many years, returning from
exile, did he get to know his real parents well.

His aunt, Basia Rozen, Syne Naczelnik's wife, the mother of several grown
children at that time, was put forward by the united workers in Brzezin as the
first member to the town council. The list, however, was declared void. She
would certainly have been elected.

Majer read a great deal, was a sensitive young man with a fine sense of humor
and satire, physically weak, with an artistic sense for painting. His portrait
of Ber Borochov [Marxist-Zionist leader] adorned the Poale Zion library in
Brzezin and was praised strongly by art connoisseurs from Warsaw and Lodz. He
had the possibility of a far-reaching future, and they predicted a great career
for him as an artist. But his path was destined to be different.

After the decline of Hashomer Hatza'ir, he, together with several friends from
bourgeois homes, organized the Communist Party in 1924. He, more than the
others, involved himself with boundless, unlimited devotion and idealistic
fervor with the active workers from other workers' unions and especially with
the professional unions, participating in cultural evenings and discussions,
teaching the workers the importance of class struggle.

Majer became secretary of the Communist Party in the Brzezin region and also
party technician. Under his authority were the local technical
people who carried out rigorous covert conspiratorial work, such as spreading
illegal literature, hanging out flags and banners at important
places  even under the nose of the police  with
anti-government slogans, calling on the workers and the people to rise up and
revolt.

Because he was a photographer with his own studio and had business with
different strata of the municipal population, his address was less suspicious.
As a matter of fact, illegal meetings were held at his home, but that did not
last long. In March of 1927, his home, on the third floor of Arje-Dawid
Perlmuter's house, was surrounded by the police. As secret agents were coming
into his room, he still had time to throw a considerable amount of illegal
literature out of the window, which the police, standing outside, found and
later brought to court as evidence against him. After the search, he and other
active leaders  such as Lajb Sieradski, Jankiel Dawidowicz, and
others  were arrested and sent to the political prison in Lodz at 13
Dluga Street, where he stayed several months before being sentenced to four
years in prison.

After the Warsaw appeals court confirmed the sentence, despite a good defense
by two first-class lawyers, he was sent to the famous Leczycki prison for
political criminals. The prison regimen there was not severe. Majer had
additional privileges because of his artistic ability, painting large portraits
of the prison head's family. At that time, in addition to communists in the
Leczycki prison, there were also Ukrainian and White Russian nationalists who
strove to secede their territories from Poland. A great percentage of
intellectuals, writers, and important political leaders, as well as former Sejm
[parliament] deputies were there. Majer also took a course in the Russian
language and studied with great zeal.

However, in a year and a half, even the milder prison regimen undermined
Majer's weak health. Efforts were made to exchange him for a Polish political
prisoner in Russia, but this would have taken a long time. After great effort,
he got a six-month health furlough, and after the six months, he was supposed
to return to prison; also every day that he was free he was to report to the
police. Majer used the health furlough to flee to the free city of Danzig, with
the idea of going to Russia. After waiting several months, he and his wife,
Lyuba (youngest daughter of the late Mojsze-Aron Szotenberg, a rich man)
traveled on a Soviet ship to the land of freedom and equality that
he had so longed for. Later, his friends from prison also went
there  Lajb Sieradski, Aron Rozenberg, and later Judke Lechtreger.

In 1933, Majer and all his friends, because of their Russian comrades, were
shot there as spies.

A tragedy, Majer, that your young life was so dreadfully, horribly shortened.
If you had not been seduced by false Messiahs, perhaps you would now be in
Israel, in America, or somewhere else in the free world. You would have had
influence and perhaps been famous as a Jewish artist. I often think of you, and
it grieves my heart. Even now I shed a tear for you. Blessed is your saintly
memory!

Leftist Poale Zion in Brzezin in 1931

In the Poale Zion Almanac of 1931, a list was published of all the members of
Poale Zion Left in Brzezin who were active that year. The names that are
listed here were signed on a greeting for the 25th-year jubilee of the Poale
Zion movement. Only a few of the listed individuals remained alive after the
destruction.

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